


Blue Cross

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Children, F/M, Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-29
Updated: 2007-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Danny meets the Pope





	Blue Cross

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

  
Author's notes:

Rating Teen- just a mention of sex this time

  


Spoilers through end of series

  


Not mine, never were, never will be, but they consume my soul

  


Feedback and criticism always welcomed

* * *

_Early March, 2012; Rome, Italy_

“Yes, dear, I’m walking over to the web cam.”

Danny Concannon moved to the desk where his laptop was connected to the internet, his cell phone in one hand, and the bag containing his neatly pressed charcoal grey suit in the other.

“See,” he told his wife, “I did as you requested. You’ll have to take my word that I did not wear the suit since you packed it for me last week, but I did send it to the hotel cleaners for pressing. Here’s the tag.” He held the pink slip of paper in front of his laptop’s camera and sent the picture to CJ.

“And here’s the shirt, tie, and socks, still in their plastic bag. Do you believe me now?”

“Yes, honey, but, please, call me back when you’re dressed and ready to go, let me look at you. I wish I could be there with you. Love you.” CJ kissed Danny through the phone and ended the connection.

For the most part, when the webcams were used, it was because CJ was away on an extended trip for “Road to a Better World”. The project was now well established and Glenallen Walken was still making most of the fund-raising trips (with some help from Ginger’s mother-in-law), but CJ still had a ten to fourteen day trip two or three times a year.

This trip to several of the European cities where the present Pope had served the church while his rank was bishop, then cardinal, with the stop in Rome slightly more than half way through the itinerary, was the first time they had used it when Danny was gallivanting and CJ was keeping the home fires burning.

The software and the technology were a boon, especially now that Paddy was developing a sense of time and duration, and was imprinting with both his parents and their gender-specific place in his universe.

CJ knew she was going a bit over the top, but it wasn’t every day that your husband had a private audience with the Pope and she wanted to make sure that Danny made a good impression on the man. True, the contracts had been signed several months ago, but, to some extent, money would be no object if the Pope or someone else in the Vatican bureaucracy decided that Danny was not the right man to write the Pontiff’s biography.

And to some extent, the money was not as important to her as was Danny’s reputation in the literary world. They would manage without the funds, but she didn’t want any bad publicity for her man.

There was no way she could have taken off the time to be with Danny for the entire time he was in Europe, doing research for the book, so she went into super worrywart mode before he left, making sure that his suit fit properly (it needed some slight alternations, Danny had toned up a bit more), having it cleaned, picking out just the right shirt (a pale to medium aquamarine that accented Danny’s eyes) and tie (a darker teal and aquamarine pattern with just a hint of a rust stripe, plus a matching handkerchief square for the breast pocket), made sure that he had brand new socks to match the suit, and took his shoes to the cobbler for new heels and a special treatment on the leather. And, of course, there was a trip to the barber the day before he flew off to Europe for a haircut, a beard trimming, and a manicure. She hoped that the grooming would last through the week and reminded him twice to make sure he saw “a professional” the afternoon before the interview for a brush up, especially on the beard and mustache.

Still, she worried. Diana had offered to take Paddy so she could fly over just for the audience, but Paddy had been having problems with his ears and throat and CJ didn’t want both her and Danny eight time zones away from their son.

Danny had endured all the fuss over his appearance with patient bemusement. He bit his tongue to keep from telling her that he had been dressing and grooming himself since he was nineteen and when needed, he cleaned up quite nicely. After all, he told himself, CJ had managed to deal with auto mechanics, burned out light bulbs, flipped circuit breakers, and driving in bad weather for several decades before their marriage. Now she accepted his wanting to do all the “guy” things for her (although he didn’t expect her to work helplessly in the dark or without power until he came home from class if he wasn’t there when things went ker-fluey. “That’s what the neighbors are for,” he laughingly told her as she threw a pillow at him, before telling her that of course he knew she could take care of herself.)Truth be told, just as it felt good to do things for her, it also felt good to have her do things for him. All in all, being married was fun.

Danny wondered how much of her fussing was due to the extraordinary nature of his appointment this morning and how much was due to pre-menstrual or menstrual hormones. CJ hadn’t said anything and he wasn’t going to bring up the subject, but she was due yesterday or today. They were nearing the end of the “let’s just wait and see” period that Scott Winkler had decreed and Danny knew his wife was getting anxious.

He was still serene about the situation. At the New Year, when they were in Ireland for Fee’s wedding to Brendan Collins, he was reassured by Robin’s great-aunt Sorcha, who by now must be closer to one hundred than to ninety that “Mariah didn’t lie to you; it will happen”. How Sorcha knew about the labor hall nurse from almost four years ago, Danny didn’t know, but his Celtic genes told him to accept and not to wonder why or how.

Of course, CJ had been in similar "let me dress you and groom you" mode that September day back in ’08 when they returned to the residence of the Prince of Wales because “my mother would like to meet you”, so maybe it had nothing at all to do with what might or might not be happening in her uterus.

_Thirty minutes later_

“Well, love of my life, do I pass inspection?” Danny paraded in front of the webcam, did a slow full turn for CJ.

“Just a little smudge under your mustache, right above your lip on the left side.” CJ reached up to her own mouth and indicated where Danny needed a final bit of grooming. Then she touched the tip of her finger to her tongue and reached toward the screen.

Danny instinctively moved slightly back. He remembered the first time he saw his wife take a tissue and use her saliva to wipe a smear of chocolate from Paddy’s mouth. Danny's heart swelled to see the witty and urbane former Press Secretary, the dedicated and professional former White House Chief of Staff, in the role of devoted mother to his son. However, he wasn’t ready to receive such treatment himself. Smoothing a lapel, yes. Taming an unruly curl, no problem. A spit cleaning, yeeww. Why it bothered him, he didn’t know. He and CJ had certainly exchanged a lot of saliva since the day after Leo McGarry’s death.

“Knock ‘em dead, Fishboy. Love you.”

“Love you back. Now go back to bed.” It was the middle of the night in Santa Monica.

_Four hours later_

Except for his relationship with CJ and the birth of his son, it had been the most amazing event of Danny's life.

Not the interview – he had interviewed far too many people, famous and infamous, to be cowed by asking questions of the Pope.

The Pope was another interesting subject; Danny needed to get into the man’s mind, to thoroughly comprehend and understand the man without becoming one with the man. This was something he knew how to do.

What was amazing was that after the questioning, the Pope sent for refreshments and what had been an interview became a conversation.

The Pope, or his aides, had done the research well. The man knew of his background, his years at Notre Dame, knew of his marriage to CJ, knew of their membership at St. Monica’s, knew that Danny was on the parish council and was a lector, knew that CJ had served on two _ad hoc_ financial committees for the parish.

“You have the one child?”

“Yes, your Holiness. Paddy, Padraic, will be three in June. We are hoping for another.”

“It is good. I am distressed that so many couples are not open to children in their marriages.”

“If I may, your Holiness, I think that most couples are open to children in their marriages, in their lives. What they are not open to is that a child result every time they express their love for each other.

“In our case, because of our ages, we were open to the idea of a child as soon as possible. When we lost two beautiful little boys at their birth a year into our marriage,” he accepted the Pope’s sympathetic murmurings with a nod, “we immediately tried again and were blessed with our son a year later. But it wasn’t until that child was almost eighteen months that we felt ready to try to bring another child into our family. For those eighteen months we did indeed use contraceptive pills and felt we were doing the right thing morally when we did so. After we decided we were ready to add another child, my wife stopped using the pills, but on our doctor’s advice, we used a diaphragm for several months to ensure that my wife and I were capable of creating another child and that our bodies were in the best physical shape, to ensure that this potential child would be healthy and would be nurtured in the body of a healthy mother. Again, we felt that we were making the right decision.”

Danny told him of the many younger couples in their parish who chose to wait for the best time to bring a child into their lives; to save money for a down payment on a house or to save money so that one of the parents could remain in the home with the young children. Danny told him of the couples that chose to wait to make sure that they had developed the mature, sacramental marriage that was needed when bringing children into the family. Danny told the Pope of the many couples who spaced their children to allow for attention to be paid to each child’s needs, to ensure that the mother had recovered from the birth and nurturing of one newborn before beginning another, or to keep up with the demands of an ever-changing career that provided well-being to the mother’s mind as well as to the financial well-being of the family.

When the Pope commented that love need not always be physical, Danny told the man that in a marriage, it is not possible to differentiate among the components.

“There are times, Your Holiness, when I cannot separate _érōs, philía_ , and _agápē_. Indeed, I would say that most of the time what I feel for my wife is a combination of all three and that the combination is greater than the three emotions. It is almost a reflection of the Trinity, _érōs, philía_ , and _agápē_ combining to become a fourth entity.”

“Interesting. And what does one call this fourth entity, my son?”

“Everyone has a different name for it, Your Holiness; I call it CJ.”

Danny discussed other aspects of love with the Pontiff. Danny told him of the relationship between Hank and Steve.

“I must admit, Your Holiness, that I cannot understand the act, the physical desire, but there is no way that anyone can be with these two men for more than five minutes and not see the devotion, the caring, that they feel for each other. They have been faithful to each other for more than ten years. They love the little girl they are raising as much as CJ and I love our son. I can maybe understand why the Church would condemn the physical act. What I cannot understand is condemning the caring for another human being. What I cannot understand is why the Church is officially so adamantly opposed to providing health care benefits for these people. Granted, our way of providing for such care in the United States is flawed, but it is the system in which we have to work. I don’t understand how a loving and caring relationship between two people is any threat to my marriage or to the marriages of anyone else I know.”

The Pope told Danny that he obviously was not going to be able to change Danny’s conscience on the matter and that perhaps they should discuss other things.

Throughout the conversation, Danny had been fascinated by the tea service they were using. The items appeared to be old but well cared for, a few scratches on the dishes, a few darns on the fabrics. The dishes were a pale ivory with medium blue crosses, simple ones, the four arms of equal length, simple right angles on the edges, around the border; the napkins had a similar blue cross in one corner. The Pope explained that the china and the table linens had belonged to his mother and that he had inherited them when she died. He rarely used them but for some reason, asked his housekeeper to use them today.

“For her wedding, she was given a set of fine Meissen, of course, but that was only for Sundays and special occasions. This is what she used for everyday. I have many fond memories of eating her soups and her sauerbraten from these dishes. Also, when I was ill, of drinking hot tea laced with honey while she held me. My mother was a saint. If I could, if it weren’t for all the rules, I would canonize her. Saint Hilde. But I can’t. So you see, my son, even I cannot have everything the way I think it should be,” the man laughed.

The Pope asked again about Danny’s and CJ’s desire for another child.

“We’ve been trying, this past year. If I may, Your Holiness, I would greatly welcome your prayers. My wife tries to hide it, but she is becoming quite anxious, concerned that we will not have another baby. Her doctor told us to try for a year before looking into extraordinary measures, but that time is almost over.”

“And you, my son, are you also anxious?”

Danny took a deep breath and told the Pope about Mariah, about how she appeared out of nowhere to give him comfort, how she told him that there would be at least two children for them. Danny also told him about Aisling and Sorcha, as well as about his and Erin’s much weaker sense of “feeling things”.

The Pope told Danny that he had no doubt that Mariah was indeed who Danny considered her to be. There were many such stories, the man told Danny. If the Vatican were to investigate every one, there would be no time to do the other work of the Church. The Pope personally believed that most, if not all, of the stories were true.

He also told Danny that God does indeed work in mysterious ways and that what Danny, Erin, Aisling, and Sorcha experience could very well be a gift from God and not one from an evil source.

“God does not create evil, my child. It is man that makes evil out of God’s creation.”

Eventually, the time came to an end. The Pope blessed Danny, gave him some rosaries and medals for himself, his family and his friends, and told Danny that he felt his story was in good hands.

_A week later; New York, NY_

After a few more days in Italy, Danny had flown into Kennedy the day before yesterday to meet with his publisher.

The discussions with his publisher were becoming more frustrating. Danny felt that some of the staff were being too timid, cowed by the idea of publishing the life story of such an important person. They were ready to sacrifice literary integrity for gain, in terms of both money and street credit. After his third “God damn it!” of the hour, Danny decided that he was wasting his time in New York, so he told his account executive that he was going home a day early.

The woman knew that when Danny got that look in his eye, that tone in his voice, that there was no persuading him to change his mind. She told Danny that she would explain things to the others, to not worry.

Danny returned to his hotel, logged onto his favorite travel site, and booked himself onto a flight leaving from Kennedy at 4:00 PM; he had three hours. He threw his things into his bags, checked out, and caught a cab.

On the way to the airport, he tried to call CJ to let her know of the change in plans. No answer at the house. He remembered something about a birthday party for one of Nancy’s nieces, a party with a clown and animals, an all-day experience for the children, everything a doting grandfather could think to provide. Danny called CJ’s cell. No answer.

Danny sighed. She had been so good about charging her phone since the incident a year and a half ago, but she begun to slip since right after Christmas.

Danny tried the Muñoz house. Carmen answered the phone and confirmed that CJ, Paddy, her mother, and Maggie were up in Malibu.

Danny thought about calling Diana’s cell but decided against it. He would discuss it with CJ in private rather than bring the neighbors into the situation.

He did call Hank and Steve. They would see to it that someone met his flight.

The flying gods were on his side – the plane arrived 15 minutes early and his bags were the first ones off the plane. There was one message waiting on his cell. Wally Hammash would be waiting for him; he should call as soon as he landed so Wally could get into position by the American pickup point.

At 7:45, he walked into the house. When Wally offered to bring over some supper, he told the neighbor no thanks; he didn’t need anything to eat. He was barely adjusted to East Coast time after Rome; he just wanted a shower and to crash. Danny did call Frank Muñoz to find out when the women were expected (about 9:30, Frank said) and asked Frank to call Diana. He wanted CJ to know he was in the house.

Danny stripped off his clothes as he walked into the master bath. He grabbed one of CJ’s towels and held it to his face. Two weeks was a long time to be apart and he drank in her scents from the slightly damp cotton.

He set down the towel and started the shower. As he waited for the water to warm up, he looked over to CJ’s vanity, enjoying the sight of her slightly cluttered disarray – liquid soap, mouthwash, toothbrush, pregnancy testing kit, mascara, lip gloss – pregnancy testing kit?

The package was sealed. There was a sales slip dated three days ago stuck to the side of the plastic wrapper.

Danny plopped himself down on the commode. Apparently, what he didn’t want to ask about, she didn’t want to tell him over the phone. He did some mental arithmetic. Assuming that it happened during the last window, the baby would be born right around Thanksgiving. Please, God, let it be, he prayed.

Danny sensed the steam filling the room, got up and took his shower. He was tired, dead tired, but his adrenaline was pumping. He couldn’t wait, so he dialed Diana’s cell and asked to speak with CJ.

“Honey?” she sounded happy, concerned, and a little embarrassed all at the same time. “Danny, I am so sorry about not charging my phone. Please forgive me. Things got a little hectic yesterday, some issues with the secondary roads in Zimbabwe, and then Paddy decided he was going to be a parachuter and had actually climbed onto the kitchen table and jumped, just skinned his knees, but crying all over, and then the circuit breaker for the lights tripped, and then -”

“You bought a pregnancy testing kit at the drugstore,” Danny decided he needed to stop the babbling and since he could neither kiss nor tickle (thank you, Paul Reeves) her over the phone, he had best interrupt her.

After a few seconds of silence, “I didn’t know how to say it over the phone, didn’t want to say it over the phone, didn’t want to jinx anything, but, yeah, it should have been seven or eight days ago.”

“I didn’t want to ask over the phone, but I guess I interpreted the vibes I got from you to be hormonal symptoms,” Danny answered.

“Oh, it’s definitely hormones,” CJ laughed. “I’m just not sure which ones. I’ve missed you, so has your son. I’m going to ask Diana if we can leave now. Love you.”

“Love you back.”

In spite of his nervous excitement, Danny must have dozed off because the next thing he knew, he was being hugged and slobbered over by his energetic son.

“Daddy’s home! I love you, Daddy! What did you bring me?” Paddy started bouncing on his knees on the bed beside his father.

Laughing, Danny kissed the little boy who looked so much like his mother, pushed himself off the bed, and pulled CJ, who had walked rather than run to the bedroom wing of the house, into his arms.

“I don’t know which is worse, staying home while you’re paving Africa, or schlepping all over Europe while you’re here at home, but I don’t like being apart from you, darling,” he whispered into her ear.

Her warm little sigh into the side of his neck indicated that she felt the same.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Paddy pulled on the hem of Danny’s boxers.

Given his automatic reaction to being close to CJ after so long, Danny did not want to be stripped naked at this particular point, so he walked over to his luggage and extracted a model of the Lamborghini Murcielago convertible and a small box.

Danny opened the box and put the medal and chain inside it around Paddy’s neck. He explained that the medal of St. Patrick had been blessed by the Pope especially for Paddy.

Paddy was more interested in the car.

“So you gripe about me driving a convertible and yet you start giving your not yet three year old son ideas about driving one,” CJ complained, mostly in fun but maybe just a little bit in earnest.

“He’s a boy, you’re a girl,” Danny told her and weaved away as she tried to smack his ass.

“So what did you bring me?” CJ smiled at him.

Danny’s eyes got dark and serious.

“Maybe?” He reached toward, but did not touch, her stomach. “When?”

“It’s most accurate in the morning,” CJ said, “but if you want to try now -”.

“Let’s not tempt fate,” Danny pulled her into his arms again, and whispered into her hair. “We’ll wait. But while we’re waiting,” he started moving toward the bed.

“Unt-uh. First presents. Then we put Paddy to bed. Then and only then-”.

Laughing, he reached again into his luggage and brought forth a St. Christopher’s medal. “Even though he’s been debunked, I asked His Holiness for this one for you, because of all the work you do to make travel and transportation easier for the world.”

Then he reached into the bag he carried with him on the planes, and pulled out a black velvet box.

Inside was a wide bracelet, very fine threads of yellow, white, rose, and green gold woven into an intricate pattern.

“Oh, Danny!” CJ sighed. She flexed the bracelet, running her fingers over the liquid width and length of it. “It feels like linen rather than metal, almost – well, ‘cloth of gold’ is the phrase that comes to mind.” Then, as if remembering how much she liked to “do for him”, she hugged him and asked, “Can I fix you something to eat?”

“I don’t need food,” Danny replied as he reached under her top and expertly undid the back of her bra with one hand, and then pushed that hand under the waistband of her capris and her panties, reaching down her backside and between her legs. Her legs separated and clamped his right thigh between them and she rocked back and forth.

“Let me put Paddy to bed,” she said with ragged breath through gritted teeth.

“No, I’ll go do it; he’ll listen better to me.” She nodded her head in agreement. Then he whispered into her ear, “Would you mind putting on Abbey’s gown?”

Later, the midnight blue negligee and his boxers were lying companionably on the floor beside the bed. Lying **in** the bed, in post-coital relaxation, CJ told Danny about the party in Malibu. Danny rested his hand at the top of her legs. Thinking about an encore, he delicately moved his fingers.

“So there’s Mr. Este **VEZ**! and his wife, patiently letting the **CLOWNS**! make fools of them – Danny! – while Nancy and Charlie were **TRYING!** to balance themselves on the tightrope that was only **NINE!** inches off the ground - ” CJ sighed and decided she didn’t want to talk anymore.

After the second time, Danny told CJ of his conversation with the Pope.

“I know I didn’t change his mind on anything, but maybe I gave him something to think about.”

They drifted off to sleep, their last thoughts being of the little box sitting on the bathroom counter.

_The next morning_

CJ and Danny were sitting on the edge of the bed, hands clasped, waiting for the oven timer to complete it’s ticking down to “zero”.

“It says that a blue plus sign indicates a positive result,” CJ repeated for the third time.

Danny nodded his head as he did the other two times. He had read the instruction sheet over and over, just as she had.

Ding!

CJ sighed and looked at Danny.

Danny reached over, cupped the back of her head, and kissed her the way he had done that first time in her office, twelve years ago.

“I love you, Jeannie.”

Then they looked at the device that held their hopes.

“Danny!” CJ was shaking, CJ was crying, CJ was holding his hand so tightly, he thought it would break. “It’s a -”.

Danny looked down to see the little blue cross, the one he had seen on the Pope’s mother’s china.

And Danny thanked God.


End file.
